


Needing/Getting

by RatFlavored



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Guilt, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sibling Incest, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, hotwrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatFlavored/pseuds/RatFlavored
Summary: “You jealous, or just like to watch, Dean?”Sam and Dean get captured by a witch and Dean experiences a whole different side of Sam.They deal with the aftermath





	Needing/Getting

**Author's Note:**

> I slammed Supernatural this winter and I had to write something. This is my first work in this fandom and I'm just hooked. 
> 
> BIG thank you to  
> [Satine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatinesHell/profile) and [Sintari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalSintari/profile) for beta reading and polishing this up nice. They're both dirty enablers who I love.

“Look Sam, he’s finally awake.” 

Dean groaned and jerked again, unable to move his arms or his legs. His head throbbed.

“Sam?” He asked, cracking open his eyes and turning his head toward the direction of the voice. Female. 

“Dean, I’m alright.” 

Sam sat in a chair to his left, a pinched, worried expression on his face. Not good. But thank god he was alive. Sam looked relatively unharmed. Probably had the same headache as him, but no blood. He’d kill whoever did this. 

Sam was tied up and less than a foot away from him. Knees, shoulders, and wrists bound to the chair by rope. Dean glanced down and saw he was in the same situation. The rope and chair both creaked as he flexed, digging the twine into his long sleeved flannel. Not going anywhere. 

He took in his surroundings. Concrete floors, exposed pipe. Some shitty basement by the look of it. The thing that made it unusual was the pentagram in the middle of the floor with bits of bone and bloody animal carcasses on some of the points. 

“How long was I out?” Dean asked as he took in the rest of the scene. Talk and figure it out at the same time. They were in Jackson, working a case. They went to a bar, and then-

“Half an hour,” that feminine voice trilled again and Dean’s head whipped forward to see a woman. 

“What the fuck did you do to us?” Dean’s upper lip curled as she approached. Brunette, slim, pretty. She was dressed casually in a skirt and top. Dean thought she looked vaguely familiar. She had a wicked smile on her face that set all of Dean’s alarms buzzing. 

“Caught you,” she shrugged and came to stand in front of Sam. She stepped out of her heels, placing a casual hand on Sam’s knee to keep upright. Dean’s lips thinned and he and Sam exchanged a glance. Sam gave him a grimace and a minute shake of his head. 

“Wasn’t too hard,” she continued, “Knocked both of you out after you left that bar.” She dangled a leather bag hanging from a string on her finger. 

“Shit…” 

“Fucking witches.” 

“I’m Vera. I need you for a spell.” She tuned out their complaints as she reached behind her. Dean heard the pull of a zipper. 

“Woah woah woah,” Dean skimmed her up and down, “You don’t gotta strip.” He shot Sam a smirk and his eyebrows jumped, “I’m all outta ones.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but his lips tightened. Dean knew he was trying not to smile. He had him. That was a win. Double win since he got him when they were in trouble. 

Vera tilted her head and gave Dean a disapproving frown at his very funny joke, “I need a sample from both of you.” Her skirt dropped to the floor. 

Dean’s smile slipped and his brow rose high as it clicked. “Uh, can’t I jerk off in the bathroom with a magazine or something?”

“No, the spell is stronger this way.”

A look exchanged between the brothers. Seriously? Dean had never heard of anything like this.

“Sam first.” Vera straddled Sam's thighs. 

“Evil is just like, animally attracted to you, huh?” Dean commented with a half smile, humor masking his anxiety over the situation. 

Sam gave him a _look._ The witch ignored Dean, and he didn't like that. Couldn't let Sammy take the brunt of this alone. 

“You this desperate for a three-way?” Dean tried to distract her again. But she ignored him. “Spit-roasted, maybe? Men-age a trois?” 

Sam gave him a closed-lipped smile. “Ménages à trois, dumbass.” A gleam of triumph shone in his eyes, the I’m-smarter-than-you look. 

“Shut up.” Vera clamped her hand over Sam’s mouth. She was met with a hard glare, and Dean had to wonder if Sam would lick her hand, like he did when they were younger.

Vera leaned in and Sam surged forward in his restraints, only moving a quarter of an inch. He had meant to intimidate her, but it didn't work. All she did was laugh. She took her hand off of his mouth.

“That’s not going to work sweetie,” she hummed, voice dripping with honey as she scooted forward in his lap, her hips aligning with Sam’s. Dean’s focus dropped to her ass as her hips rotated. She gave a good grind from the look of it. Sam pulled at the restraints again, his jaw clenching. He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing. _Attaboy Sammy._ Her grinding didn’t stop. She had them right where she wanted them. 

He tried to look away, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Stealthily, he tried to watch out of his peripheral vision, only sneaking glances over once in a while to avoid being caught. 

Vera moved in again and this time Sam tried to angle away. Her hand left his shoulder and gently brushed Sam’s hair behind his ear, and Dean felt a hot spike of jealousy. 

Too affectionate. 

“I can feel you getting hard, Sam,” Her voice slithered low enough to be a murmur, but loud enough so Dean could hear every syllable, “It’s gonna feel so good inside me.” 

That sent a bolt of heat down Dean’s spine. 

Vera really wasn’t fucking around, and she really would ride Sam while Dean sat bound up two feet away. 

Her lips moved up Sam’s neck, but he kept his chin pointed up, keeping away from his face while sacrificing his neck to her mouth. Dean couldn’t see Sam’s face, but he heard an intake of breath, and when she pulled back, she left a little mark. Vera thumbed at it and Dean frowned. 

“Don’t look so upset Dean,” Vera scooted back in Sam’s lap for a moment, long enough to pull her shirt off. No bra. Dean couldn’t help but let his eyes rake down her front. She had a nice pair. He felt that bitter feeling he had slip away. “Better now?”

Dean squared his jaw and refused to comment, but he saw Sam glance down, swallow hard and then look away again. He had to admire the kid for trying to resist under these conditions. There was a blush creeping up on Sam’s face, and under normal circumstances he’d tease him, like when he laughed after a joke, or when he got done with a run. Dean had always thought Sam looked good when his face got pink. 

Dean closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He was already almost fully hard, and the woman wasn’t even in his lap. It was just like watching a lap dance, right? Except that he’d never watched another guy get one and get off to it before. Vera was a good-looking woman, and Sam was a good-looking guy. No getting around that. Definitely not the first time he’d thought that either, but usually he kept all that pushed way _way_ down-

He heard a jingle of a belt buckle and a zipper being drawn. 

“Ohh look at this…” 

Dean knew what was happening and he willed his eyes to keep shut. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Dean’s eyes snapped open. _Sorry?_ What the fuck was there to be sorry for? 

He looked over find Sam with his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling and looking like he was trying to pretend his cock wasn’t out and looking painfully erect. _Fuck_. Sam looked big. 

Figured. Big to match his big frame. 

Wasn’t the first time Dean thought about that possibility either. 

She’d rucked up his shirt to his middle and tucked the bottom into the rope around his chest. She didn't want it to fall down again. It was a suspiciously practiced move. She pulled Sam’s pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. Enough so Dean could see all of him, and that Sam had nothing to worry about. A gentle sweeping of hair skimmed from his navel to his groin. Looked like he kept himself neatly trimmed. Of course he’d be obsessive about personal grooming. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Vera’s voice chimed, taking the base of Sam’s cock and waving it a little, toying with him. 

“I can’t…” Sam’s voice was subdued, his eyes watery. Dean’s chest clenched. 

“Sam.”

“I can’t help it.” Sam’s head lolled to the side, eyebrows drawn up and inward, and he gave Dean an apologetic look. He took a shaky inhale and his throat bobbed. A tear tracked down the side of his face. _Ah shit._

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t worry about it,” Dean soothed. Even in this fucked up situation, he needed to comfort Sam somehow. Needed to let him know it was okay. Dean would be there to pick up the pieces when this was over. “It’s normal. You’re fine, and we’re gonna get out of here.”

Sam bit his lower lip and nodded, took another unsteady breath, blinked, pulled it together. They would be all right. Dean was gonna kill this fucking evil bitch when they got out of this.

“Look, I can’t even get my hand around all of it,” Dean glanced down to see Vera’s fingers wrapped around the thickest part, unable to touch together. A shiny drop of precome oozed from the tip when she squeezed, “Think you could, Dean?” 

_I bet I could._ Dean couldn’t control the thought. His fingers twitched. It would feel thick, but his hands were bigger than Vera’s. He’d be able to touch no problem. Probably. If it were him he’d use his thumb to smear that precome-

He looked back up to meet Sam’s eyes for a split second before they both looked away. 

Dean could feel heat creeping up the back of his neck as Vera laughed at him. He wasn’t sure if he felt more embarrassed or turned on. It was a sickening mixture of both. 

“I wonder who’s bigger?” She thought out loud. 

Dean sat up straighter and gave Vera a surly look to keep her away, but that didn’t stop her hand from reaching over. Dean pursed his lips as she undid his belt and jeans. He shoved his hips down as she tugged. He would not make it fucking easy for her. 

Dean huffed out a bitter laugh she took a couple yanks to get his pants over his hips. He made sure not to look over at Sam, choosing any other point to look at in the musty basement. The floor, the pipes, the wall. Now Sam would have evidence he was just as fucked up. Probably more so because he hadn’t even been the one getting directly messed with. He was just the dirty voyeur. 

Her fingers gripped around him as she looked him over. “Sam’s is longer,” she appraised his dick, like he was just a slab of meat. Dean kept his expression neutral. Keep calm. Vera used her fingers to measure, “by about an inch.” 

“Not a big deal.” Dean didn’t have a problem with his size; a solid six and a half inches was just fine. Even when they were tied up and at this monster’s mercy, Dean still had an ego to uphold, “I have girth.” 

Out of his peripheral vision, Dean could see that Sam had his eyes on him. Sam was looking directly at his cock. It was much more than a casual glance. Sam downright stared. There was a look in his eyes that Dean hadn’t seen before. Dark and half lidded. It sent a shock down his spine. The thought of Sam watching him like this was- 

He found himself _wanting_ it. He wanted Sam to stare. 

Dean slowly turned his head toward him and Sam immediately glanced away to avoid being caught.

“I’ll test that girth later.” Vera withdrew her hand and reached down to slip off her panties. 

That caught both Sam and Dean’s attention. She was wet. Positively soaked by the look of the dark spot on her panties, which went flying over her shoulder. 

Sam inhaled through his nose deeply when she reached down to slip a finger inside herself. Vera removed her hand and brought her finger to Sam’s face, wiping her wetness on his lower lip until it glistened. “Taste it,” she ordered.

Sam closed his eyes as he drew his lower lip into his mouth. A little surrender. It looked like it tasted good. Dean mimicked him, wetting his lower lip. Dean throbbed when Sam’s lips wrapped around her fingertip and his cheeks hollowed. That wet suction would feel nice. 

Vera leaned into Sam and reached between them. 

She was really going to fuck his unwilling brother right next to him while he just sat there unable to do anything. Dean flexed his shoulders, trying to loosen the rope. It wasn’t working. They weren’t gonna get out of this. Just gotta let her get what she wanted and gank her when they got free. If they got free. His usual brains of the operation was currently about to get molested.

Sam usually took things pretty hard. Dean couldn’t let another bad thing happen to him while he just sat by and watched. He needed to do something. 

He cleared his throat to get Vera’s attention, “Hey. What about me?” 

“What about you?” She asked, taking hold of Sam’s cock. She moved her wrist a little, and although Dean couldn’t see what was going on from the angle, he could figure out that she was rubbing just the tip against her opening. Sam squirmed. 

He needed to deflect her attention off Sam and onto him. He could probably handle this better than Sam could. He slept around more. He would be able to brush it off, like he did when he called a cab for a girl, or deleted a number from his phone. Sam needed to have a connection to someone before jumping into bed with them. And if anyone could bury trauma, it was Dean.

Dean feigned a smile and gave her his best leer. “Well, Sam’s been getting all the attention and I could use a little action. How about you come over here instead?” 

“Don’t worry Dean. You’re next.” She gave him a wink before her mouth morphed in an ‘o’ as she sunk down. 

Her ass reached his lap and Dean heard another sharp intake of breath from Sam. Leaving no time to waste, she moved immediately, her hips swirling. He could see Sam’s jaw grow tight, trying not to react, trying not to show her that he was enjoying this. There was a flush on Sam’s cheeks already. Dean bit his lower lip. 

“Ohhhh it’s good,” Vera moaned, adding over the top vibrato to the end. Sounded like she was getting paid for it. Dean was into it, but there was an eye roll from Sam. He looked like he was trying to act indifferent, but Dean could see a bead of sweat make its way down Sam’s temple. 

Vera tilted her head back, putting her chest on display again. Sam’s eyes trailed down. 

“You’re in so deep. Your cock is so good.” Her hips circled again. 

“Fuck.” Sam’s voice was low and had a broken edge to it. 

It went straight to Dean’s dick. 

Guilt bubbled up in his gut. He was _liking_ the sound of his brother getting fucked. A witch forced Sam into sex and Dean was hard from watching. His eyes shut as he tried to block it all out, but Vera whispered again about how much she loved his cock and Sam responded with a groan. Somewhere in a dark corner of his mind, he logged away Sam’s preference for praise. 

From the sound of it, Sam’s cock _was_ good. 

Dean was good at talking, too. If it was what Sam wanted, Dean would have no problem telling him-

“You jealous, or just like to watch, Dean?” 

Dean jerked his head away. He didn’t realize he was watching them. Dean felt like a kid who’d been caught in the cookie jar. 

“Ha, jealous?” He tried to play it cool, like he wasn’t tied up and helplessly turned on with his cock leaking against his stomach. “It’s just like watching porn or something.” 

Dean was sick of Vera laughing at him, but there she was at it again. “That explains you, but if it’s like porn, why does Sam keep staring?” 

Sam was purposefully looking, head turned up toward the ceiling again. His face was getting redder, but tried to appear disinterested. 

Dean knew Sam’s poker face, and this was it. Sam _had_ been looking at him earlier a couple times. 

“Sam watches you when he thinks you aren't looking-”

“Don’t.” Sam’s voice was soft and pleading. This was dangerous. 

“Don’t listen to her Sammy.” Dean needed to keep him whole. “She’s trying to humiliate us. Ignore her and keep it together. You’re strong, and you can get through this. I know you can do this for me.” 

“Your voice is making it worse for him.” Vera gave an awful smirk. “I can feel him throbbing in me.” 

A rush of air left Dean’s chest. _Oh fuck_

He was making Sam throb? If Sam was throbbing from just his voice, what could he do to get a stronger reaction out of him? 

Would he flinch if he clenched his fist in Sam’s hair? Or moan if he ground their hips together? Would Sam gasp if he stole a kiss? Dean felt dizzy at the thought. He didn't rarely himself to think this far, at least not while sober.

“Shut up,” Sam ground out and bucked his hips up once, causing Vera to gasp out. 

“Oh yes, that's it.” Vera spread her hands over his chest, eyes alight, “That's it, fuck me Sam.” 

Sam shook his head, but his jaw dropped open when Vera struck her palm across his cheek, hard enough to leave a red mark. Hard enough to leave a red scratch from her nails.

“Hey!” Dean barked, but he went unnoticed. 

“Come on…” She fisted her hand in Sam’s hair and pulled to the side. She spoke into his ear again, loud enough for Dean to hear. She made sure of that. “You _like_ that he’s here, don’t you? Dean seems like a ladies man, but he doesn’t understand what you can do.” 

Sam’s hips twitched up, his jaw clamped shut. 

“Why don’t you show him? Show him how you can fuck.” 

With a low groan, Sam broke. Dean watched as Sam pitched upward, bouncing Vera in his lap. She gave a delighted squeal, but Dean’s focus wasn’t on her anymore. 

Sam’s breath came out heavy, his mouth hung open, lips wet. Those heavy breaths turned into grunts when Vera squeezed Sam’s shoulders, looking like she was having difficulty hanging on. Sam was fucking her good. 

It was strange. The witch was hot and all, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Sam. Something about the way he moved made him feel desperate. On edge. Sam pulled at the rope around his red wrists. He was forcefully jerking upward, the chair legs skidding on the floor, and the wood creaking under him as he strained upward to her. With his shirt up, Dean could see how his abs bunched together as he fucked.

Dean felt jealous. He wanted to be the one making Sam lose it like this. Wanted to make him lose control. 

Dean wanted to see Sam with his hands unbound, grasping at a pair of hips with those long fingers and pulling them down toward him. He had a feeling that Sam wanted to be rougher. Wanted it harder. 

Sam glanced over and caught his eye.

Dean shifted, not sure if he should be comfortable with this, but Sam’s look was hungry, pupils full, eyes boring into his. Intense. 

Dean’s heart caught in his throat as he watched Sam’s stare drop to his dick. There wasn’t any shame about it.

“Let him watch.” Vera arched back and spread her legs wide, putting herself on display. Dean glanced down and groaned.

Dean was a visual guy, always had been, and this was like a full-fledged porno put on just for his entertainment.

He could see everything like this. Sam’s thick cock shone wet as he moved, disappearing and reappearing. Dean’s hands fisted. God, how he wanted a hand free to jerk himself off right now. His own hips flexed involuntarily.

Dean leaned in to get a better angle. It was so fucking hot to watch like this. Sam slowed his movements for a couple thrusts, then sped up again, then slow again. Dean liked the change in pace, but he had to wonder why Sam was teasing like this.

He glanced up.

Sam was still watching him. Gaze heavy. His eyes were half lidded, glazed over. He was staring at Dean like he needed him.

Dean could feel every ounce of that weight.

Sam was putting on a show.

_Watch me._

It was mesmerizing. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. For a few seconds, everything else faded away. It was just him and Sam. This was a side of Sam that few got to see. He wanted to take in every bit of Sam and log it away, keep it for himself. He wanted to keep those eyes on him till he burned up from the energy of it.

“Sam.”

Sam’s heady gaze broke when his eyes rolled back, his body tensing. He made a noise like someone punched him in the gut.

“Ohhh….”

That sound seared into Dean’s brain. He wanted to hear it over and over again. Wanted to make it happen. Be the one Sam was moaning over. He wanted to be the one to make him lose it.

Dean let out a shaky exhale as he watched Sam come down. His body relaxing muscle by muscle.

Vera hummed and wiggled her hips, causing Sam to flinch at the stimulation. “You filled me up.”

“Fuck…” Sam rasped, twisting his head away when she planted a kiss on his cheek.

She raised her hips and lifted off of him, turning to Dean, “You next.”

She moved closer, placing herself in Dean’s lap, his cock between her spread legs. His eyes darted down and noticed a dribble of come dripping out of her. _Sam’s come_. It landed hot on his thigh. His head was swimming. Dean let out a measured breath.

“I’m not into sloppy seconds, baby.” Dean thinned his lips and gave her a disgusted look, but it faltered when her hand caught his face in a strong grip, those long pointed nails of hers digging into this cheeks.

“Too bad.” Vera shook his face and released, reaching down to grip his iron hard dick, “You’re hard, and wet, too. Looks like it hurts.”

Dean hissed at the contact. His body was begging for it.

A quick glance to Sam. He looked tired, but nevertheless interested. Those hazel eyes were still latched onto him.

Vera lifted herself and wasted no time settling down on Dean’s cock.

His head dropped back against the rail of the chair as he openly moaned, unable to feel embarrassed at this point.

She was hot, and so fucking _slick_. Wetter than he’d ever had a girl. Dean had no chance to keep the thought from his mind. The reason she was so incredibly slippery. That wall had already crumbled. It ran through his mind again and again as she rode him. _Sam’s come. Sam’s come. Sam’s come._

This was screwed up, but Dean could barely control his thoughts anymore.

He fucked up into her, slid his cock through Sam’s mess over and over. It was so fucking hot to be where Sam had been. Evidence that Sam had just gotten off right fucking next to him. Maybe even partially _because_ of him. They were so close like this, blending a part of themselves, mixing DNA, combining it all together-

It all boiled over as Dean reached his peak. He bit his lower lip to stifle a growl as he unloaded, adding his load to the mix.

The guilt set in immediately.

This was all against their will, and Dean just got off on it.

“Fuck-” He choked, “Fuck-”

Vera gasped above him, but not in pleasure. A gleaming blade sliced through her chest, ripping upward through her ribs to her shoulder.

Sam had gotten loose. He evidently had picked up to a knife along the way.

Vera slumped backwards as the life drained out of her, blood spilling down. Sam caught her and relocated her to the floor with a flop.

Sam moved behind Dean, fingers working at the rope.

“How’d you get out?” Dean asked, voice still rough.

“You don’t think I can untie knots?” Sam muttered as he freed his arms, then worked on his legs.

Dean shrugged sheepishly and glanced down at the mess in his lap. He pulled up his pants, deciding to worry about all of this later. They had to get the fuck out of here.

He felt sick.

 

\---

 

They went to Memphis, Dean just drove. North. Then took a left, just driving west. Wherever. Just needed to go. Get the hell away from Jackson. 

Dean drove for two days, barely stopping. They slept in the car, cramped. They kept silent. 

There were long stretches of empty road in Oklahoma, ones that made it easy for Dean to drift off in his own mind. Those thoughts he pushed down would bubble up. 

Sam kept looking at him. 

_Like he wanted him to watch._

_Like he wanted him to like it-_

Dean’s fingers abruptly twisted the radio knob. 

Not gonna think about it yet. Not with Sam so close to him. 

Not when he could see those love bites that witch left on his neck. When he thought about it, a shiver went down his spine. 

But Sam tried to fucking talk anyway.

Sam cleared his throat to signal he was trying to start a conversation and dread rose in the pit of Dean’s stomach. Sam spoke, “You okay?” 

“Just fine.” 

“Dean-”

“I’m just fine. I’m good.” Each of his sentences were punctuated with a hard stop. Stop talking. Just stop.

“No one can be good after that-”

“Neither of us got hurt.”

“There’s hurt you can’t see, beyond physical-”

“ _Sam._ ” His knuckles were white on the wheel. 

Dean knew that Sam was trying to deal, too, and knew somewhere, deep down, that talking could help, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

His stomach twisted. He couldn’t do this for Sam. 

“Dean-”

He reached for the volume and turned it up. 

A power ballad. November Rain. 

Shut Sam up though. Dean could see out of his peripheral vision that Sam wasn’t happy. He heard him sigh. Arms folded up and head resting against the car window. 

Dean didn’t have it in him to sing along. 

 

\---

 

They got to Phoenix late at night. Just a place where Dean decided to stop. 

The motel he picked was cheap, but clean. For a second he considered getting two rooms, but even if Dean refused to talk, he wanted to be there for his little brother. 

Dean didn’t sleep much. He spent half the night staring at Sam’s broad back, his chest moving with each slow breath. He couldn’t tell if Sam was sleeping or just pretending. When he couldn’t watch anymore, he spent the other half staring at the neon motel sign lights through the blinds. He’d rather watch the shadows of cars passing by than see Sam’s blissed out face every time he tried to close his eyes.

 

\---

 

“I’m going out.”

Sam’s head shot up from his laptop. Dean assumed he was burying himself in research. Or looking up bus schedules so he could get away. Escape from him. 

“Out?” Sam’s forehead was doing the Thing where his eyebrows arched up. 

“Yep. Out.” Dean had a loose plan. Gas station for alcohol, then just drive around. He needed to clear his head. Roll down the window and feel the wind and let himself forget. 

“Okay.” Sam shifted, glanced to his laptop, then to the door, then back to Dean.

If the hotel room was empty when he got back-

“You uh-” Dean swallowed a lump in his throat, hand on the doorknob, “-you gonna run on me?”

“No.” The answer came with a frown from Sam. Relief from Dean. “ _You’re_ gonna come back, right?”

“Yeah.” Leaving wasn’t a possibility for him anymore. Just couldn’t. Not even an option. Dean hated that Sam didn’t intrinsically know that by now.

Sam gave a slow nod as he stared at nothing toward his laptop. Not focused on anything.

“I’ll be back,” Dean opened the door and left.

 

\---

 

The next couple days were a whiskey soaked blur.

Keeping his lips pressed to a bottle was the only way Dean knew how to block things out. He tried to keep it too out of focus to think about.

Didn’t work. Still kept thinking about it.

His thoughts became worse when he drank. It was harder to turn his brain off.

How he couldn’t do anything. How part of him didn’t want to do anything.

He wanted to watch Sam and have that connection with him.

To kiss and touch. He wanted to watch Sam come.

It wasn’t even fucking consensual and Dean still got off on it.

Sam was probably fucked up from it all.

And all Dean could think about was how he needed to be close. 

Closer.

He felt disgusting.

“You’re always fucking glued to that thing,” Dean started, mood bad and swirling the last inch of Hunter’s in the bottle. A leg hung off the side of the bed as he half watched Cops with the volume off. It was late. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Needed something.

“Okay.” Sam slammed his laptop shut and Dean looked over. “So you shut me out when I talk to you, and now you bitch when I don’t,” He could see a muscle in Sam’s jaw stiffen. Ha. Looked like Sammy was pent up, too. He was so handsome when he was pissed, all dirty looks and tense shoulders. Sam glared over at him. It felt gratifying. “What do you want from me?”

Dean shrugged, casual. It felt good to rile someone up. Felt good to be the one who pretended not to care. If he pretended to be detached, maybe it’d work. “I don’t know, Sam.”

“No, Dean.” Sam stood and Dean watched with a raised brow as he took three long strides over. Sam loomed over him. “You’ve been drinking non-stop for the past three days.” Sam snatched the bottle from his hand.

“Hey-”

“What is this, your sixth?” Sam’s nose wrinkled as he inspected the mostly empty bottle, his voice laced with revulsion. “You’re sitting around chugging this shit and giving me the silent treatment when I’m trying to find some fucking work.”

“So?” He wondered if he pushed him away enough Sam would just take off and leave. How long would Sam put up with his shit?

“So fuck you. I’m trying to deal by shoving my head in _there_ -” Sam gestured sharply to the laptop, “Because you’re not _here_ ,” he threw his hand out.

Guilt punched Dean in the gut. It was just another way he let Sammy down. With a curl of his lip, he pulled a mask over the hurt as quickly as possible, but there was no way Sam didn’t see how that had affected him.

He saw Sam’s shoulders slump, the rage deflating. 

Not what he wanted. He didn’t know what he wanted, but it wasn’t Sam backing down. 

“You don’t want talking. You don’t want not talking. Dean, what do you want from me?” Sam repeated, his voice soft, cracking at the end. 

“Nothing.” Dean spat. He couldn’t take that look in his eyes. Wounded, sad. He stood up from the bed, grabbing the bottle and shoving Sam’s shoulder as he walked past. 

“You’ve been pretending to be all blasé about this when I know you’re not.”

“Can it with the fucking French. I don’t give a shit,” Dean muttered as he shrugged on his jacket. Dean dug in his pocket, threw his keys on the table, then headed for the door. 

“You know, I’m just as messed up as you.”

Dean ignored him and threw open the door. He slammed it on his way out. The empty bottle flew through the air and hit the cement with a crunch. That seemed to lessen whatever was inside him by a fraction.

There was a wall between him and Sam, but he still felt like he couldn’t calm down. Dean began walking, not sure to where. He just needed space. Space and something else to ruin. 

If Sam couldn’t be his outlet, Dean needed something else. Physical. Violent. 

Dean rounded a corner and found a dumpster behind the hotel. Thankfully some furniture propped up against the side had been left there to rot. 

Dean took a ripped up bar stool by the seat and slammed it down on the asphalt, the metal bending from the force. 

Fuck Sam. _What did he want from him?_ He grit his teeth as he grabbed the leg and swung it against the side of the dumpster. With a clang, the seat flew off. 

He took a couple breaths and his eyes landed on a crumbling pallet. With his boot on a piece of the board, he used both hands to yank up a piece of wood, chucking the plank as far as he could. _If only he knew what he wanted from him._

It took a couple extra pulls for the rest of the pallet, the nails rusted and weak. Not enough just to tear it to pieces. Energy still boiled up inside him like he was a pressure cooker. He needed to release it all. _Sam wanted the same thing._ That intense look flashed before Dean’s eyes. That heavy, molten stare before he came. 

It was undeniable. Sam wanted him as well. 

When he’d ripped the last piece of the pallet apart, he held it like a bat and swung at the side of the dumpster, striking the side again and again, rattling the metal. His hands shook from the vibrations. If someone heard him, fuck it. Dean dented the side, hitting it until the wood cracked and broke. The bottom corner of the dumpster oozed rotten milk. 

_Just as messed up._

He used to be able to bury it down. Felt like keeping a balloon underwater. He had too keep his hand on it at all times. The second he let go it was all over. 

Dean didn't have to face it until now. 

He could hate himself for it, but he couldn’t hate Sam. No way. 

Never. 

He shouldn’t have felt this way at all, but a little part of him felt-

Like the note he got back from a girl in high school had a check mark next to “yes.”

It was all so fucked up.

He looked up toward the sky.

His breaths were heavy.

There still wasn’t anything he could do, but he felt better somehow. His frayed nerves mended when his physical tension left.

Dissipated. 

The tame night air blew past his neck, cooling the sweat. 

Dean came back to the room with splinters in his hands. He let Sam help him pick them out. 

 

\---

 

Two days went by. And Dean found himself feeling a little better. They didn't talk about the fight, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. 

Dean opened the door to the motel room to find Sam still at the computer. He gave a quick glance up when Dean passed by, headed to his duffel. 

“Hey, Dean. I figured out what kind of spell she was working on.”

Dean fumbled the zipper and broke the tab. Shit. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. She was trying to make a homunculus.” 

“A homunculus?” Dean turned halfway, grimacing in confusion. 

“Yeah.”

“And what the fuck is that, exactly?” 

Sam squinted at the computer screen, “Looks to be like some sort of weird, small humanoid thing.” 

“What a fucking nut-job.”

“There's also a part about how the seed needs to be from a victim.”

Dean turned away and pinched what was left of the zipper to open his bag. 

“That's why it was non-consensual-” 

“I’m going to bed Sam.” He quickly traded his flannel t-shirt to a comfier gray one for bed. 

“Dean, we can’t just-”

“I’m _tired_ , Sam.” His voice came out more hard than he intended, but it shut him up for now. Dean rubbed at his eyes. He wasn’t looking, but he could feel the look Sam was giving him. 

Probably pissed. Probably pitying. 

Sam had given him some time, but it wasn’t enough. He knew that shutting Sam out when he needed him most was shitty, but he couldn’t do this. 

Dean couldn't talk about it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

It was like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Talk to Sam, hate himself. Don’t talk to Sam, hate himself. The later was the easier option by far.

He shucked off his pants, turned off the light, and slid into bed, leaving Sam in the glow of the computer. 

He heard Sam take a deep breath and let it out slow. 

Dean felt himself caving. He rolled to his side to face the window. Easier to talk when he wasn’t looking at him. Easier when he was facing away. “Gimmie some time.” 

There was a pause, and then, “I can do that.” 

 

\---

 

As much as Dean itched for it, he made the decision not to drink so heavily for a while. A beer here and there would be alright, but whiskey was out. It was pissing Sam off and it wasn’t helping him that much. He needed a different outlet. 

“How's it coming?” Dean was lounging in bed, flipping through channels when Sam came into the hotel room. Dean hoped Sam would find a job soon. Sam shrugged and dug into his pocket. 

A small cardboard box landed in his lap. 

“What the hell’s this?” 

“An STD kit-” Dean turned the box over in his hand as Sam continued to talk, “-the turnaround is a couple days. 

Dean wrinkled his nose, but nodded. Sam was practical. 

He shoved it in his jacket pocket to do later. “Just find us a fucking case, okay?” 

Dean saw Sam’s jaw clench as he turned away toward the desk. Guilt shot through him again. He’d been taking all of this out on Sam and he really shouldn’t be. Sam was dealing with this, too. 

He shifted on the bed, sitting up a little straighter. He needed to at least find out if Sam was alright. Dean could see that the bruise on his neck was cleared up now. 

Dean cleared his throat, “So uh…” Awkward start, but he had to get it out. Sam glanced over his shoulder. “How uh. How are you doin’?” Dean glanced to his hands and fiddled with the remote. Turned it on mute. “You doin’ alright?” 

“Yep.” Came Sam’s tight answer. 

Of course he’d be like this. Dean hadn’t exactly been that open to talking. Still wasn’t. But Dean needed to figure out if he was okay. Even if they talked around the issue. Dean rubbed the back of his head. “Well…” he trailed off, no idea where he was going. “Processing.” 

“You, processing too?”

“Yeah.” 

 

\---

 

Dean pressed his back up against the wall of the abandoned warehouse, gun close and at the ready. Across from him, Sam was peeking around the corner of the hallway. Sam looked around, then threw him a chin up to signal the coast was clear. They proceeded down the hall.

A couple of vampires were working to start a nest. They had to wipe them out. Sam discovered them by leading them to a victim’s home and finding a receipt from a bar. Talked to the right people from the bar and here they were. Guns poised and ready to take down a pair of monsters.

Elated, Dean was ready to jump into the car when Sam found the case. It gave him normality back. A sense of power. He could do something right again. 

He could forget and focus on something he excelled at. 

Down another hall. Dean went first. He liked to protect Sam. It made him more at ease if Sam had his back, and if he was more at ease, he could focus on the job. If Sam asked flat out, it would be a different story. If they ran into anything, Sam could shoot around him easier because of his height.

He had full confidence that Sam could hold his own in any kind of fight, but Dean needed to be the one going first. 

There was an upper office. That's where their monsters would be. Somewhere secluded like that. Dean approached the closed door and slowed his breathing. He could hear voices inside. If they didn’t move fast, the vamps would know they were there by the sound of their heartbeats. He glanced over to Sam and signaled toward himself and then the door. Sam gave him a nod. Dean took a step back to gain momentum and stomped forward on the door. With a crack, it snapped off its frame. Another solid kick brought it down.

Dean was met with two sets of wide eyes as the door hit the ground, hinges blown off. Two female vampires. Red blood was smeared along both of their chins, letting Dean know that the pale body on the floor was fresh. They’d gotten here too late. 

Without hesitation, Dean fired off a round and hit one as Sam moved forward, machete in his fist ready to chop her head off. Bullets wouldn’t kill them, just distract long enough to allow an easy opening. Sam lopped the first one’s head off and Dean took aim at the second one. They worked in a rhythm. A dance. The second vamp’s expression was tense with fear, but it morphed into anger. 

“That was my _mate_.” She growled before lunging. 

Dean felt a twinge of sympathy before he pulled the trigger, the signal for Sam to move. 

“Sorry,” Sam apparently felt the same weird pang of regret. He brought the blade under her chin, “You’re hurting people.”

With a grunt and a jerk of his arm, her head was rolling on the floor next her partner’s. 

They did it. Piece of cake. 

Dean tucked his gun in his waistband and found himself taking a couple deep breaths to steady his heart rate. He’d missed the adrenaline. 

It was good to get back to normal. Sam was also trying to catch his breath, even though he was more in shape than Dean. He’d missed this. Being in synch with Sam. He shot Sam a half smile and got a little upturn of the lips in return. Dean’s smile grew wider and he gave Sam a little nudge with his elbow which Sam gave back. Felt good to be back in the game after some time off.

For a second, Sam’s eyes grow softer, that little smile got a little wider. 

Dean looked away, swallowing down his jumping heart. 

He looked down at the pair of vampires. They’d probably just leave the bodies here. Mates, huh? He took a step closer, a bit of a frown on his face. “Lesbian vampires.”

Sam cocked his head at him and Dean already knew what was coming, “Is there anything _wrong_ with that, Dean?”

“Course not.” Dean shot him a look, “Just hadn’t seen it yet.” 

“You haven’t seen lesbians.” Sam deadpanned, “That's a lie. I’ve seen your search history.

“Shut the fuck up, you know what I meant.” 

“Well being gay isn’t a big deal,” Sam kept his tone light and casual. That immediately set off alarm bells. 

“I know it’s not a big deal.” 

“I’m just making sure you know.”

Dean looked to the ceiling, praying to god that something would smite him so Sam wouldn’t continue this conversation.

“Because if you were,” Sam moved closer, “if that's why you’ve been-”

“No that's not-” Dean shook his head incredulously. Sam thought he was having some sort of gay crisis? “Really?” _I’m just as messed up as you._ echoed through him. His brain whirred to try and put the pieces together. He felt like he wasn’t on the same wavelength. Dean grimaced. Did Sam- “It’s not _messed up._ ” 

“No, that wasn’t what I was talking about then.” Sam held up his hands, one still full of bloodied machete, “I was talking about… something else.” 

Oh. So his original assumption was right. 

Ah. 

Dean could feel heat moving up his neck and onto his face. Caught. 

He heaved a sigh, “Can we not have this conversation here?” He gestured to the pair of heads on the floor. 

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Sam ignored him and Dean met his eyes. Sam was staring at him and Dean found concern in his expression. It made Dean ache. “I just wanna know what’s going on in your head.” 

There was a low groan from the body on the floor.

Holy fucking shit. The victim was alive. 

Dean moved, immediately crouching low to assess the damage. He thought she had been dead. Apparently not, since she rolled her head to the side when placed his palm to the wound on her neck. He applied pressure to the bite mark to try and stop the bleeding. 

“Sam-”

“On it.” Sam had already taken off his flannel and was ripping into strips. With his help, Dean was able to tie the makeshift bandage over the bite. 

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Dean tossed Sam his keys before he hooked an arm under her legs and around her shoulders. She was starting to bleed through the flannel. 

They got her to the car and Dean stayed in the backseat with her. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. She was too young for this. Sam floored it and Dean kept applying pressure until the hospital came into view. 

“You’re gonna be alright.” Dean murmured as he propped her up in a wheelchair outside the emergency room entrance. As soon as they rolled her inside, he and Sam took off. They couldn’t risk the locals asking questions. She’d be alright. 

Sam tossed the keys back and Dean caught them midair. 

Dean glanced to Sam and gave a guilty shrug, expression saying saying “I-feel-like-a-dumbass.”

Sam returned the sentiment with a smile-grimace. They saved her, but almost didn’t notice. 

Dean looked out the window and hid his smile. This really wasn’t funny, but he couldn’t help it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam’s dimples and a shake of his head. 

Even if it took them a while, they’d won one. 

Felt good. 

 

\---

 

Dean wanted to celebrate after. Grab a beer with Sam and unwind. 

What he got was a girl yapping his ear off at the bar as he stared at Sam from twenty feet away. 

A woman leaned next to Sam at the far end of the bar. Blonde, beautiful. It was obvious that she was bright from the way Sam listened to her. Sam had a thing for a woman with brains, someone who he could vibe with. He was half hunched over the bar to have his head level with hers. Body posture mirroring with their elbows brushing. His ear close to her lips. Had to be that close to be heard over the Friday night buzz of voices, roaring music, and bottles clinking as background noise to the bar. 

It illuminated Sam in a warm orange-yellow glow from the tiki bar.

Pretty little fingers brushed Sam’s hair away from his ear as the woman leaned in even closer and whispered something. Dean watched as Sam smiled. It was rare to see a smile so big from him nowadays. 

Wonder what she said to make that happen. 

Dean nodded and painted on his own smile as the girl he was with wrapped up her story. Something about a camping trip. Dean should have been ready with a follow up question, but something distracted him. It was obvious she figured that out when she excused herself to go to the restroom. There was no way she was coming back. 

He couldn’t help but be distracted. Every little move Sam made. 

Sam thinned his lips to keep a straight face as the woman said something else. Looked like she was quite a jokester. Maybe they’d hit it off. A part of Dean he usually stifled reared its head. 

He kind of wanted to be her. 

To be in her place and have all that attention on him. To have Sam lean in and hang on every word. To make Sam blush as he whispered some dirty joke. To make him breathe harder when he nipped his ear. Those sounds he made before, they were so low-

Shouldn’t surprise him. Dean had always wanted Sam’s attention. Recent events had just changed that into something more in the forefront of his mind. He refused to ignore it anymore, but he didn’t have the balls to do anything about it either. 

The woman turned toward the bar to order another round, and Sam glanced up and scanned the room, finding Dean. His eyes immediately softened and ah shit, there was that smile. His stomach flipped. Dean looked down at his drink for a second. There must be something in the beer. If there wasn’t, that called for a couple more.

Dean raised his beer in a toast. He hoped he didn’t look too pathetically alone at the bar. 

Sam put a hand on the woman’s shoulder for a moment and said something to her. She flashed him a disappointed pout as Sam walked away and snaked his way through the crowd toward Dean’s end of the bar.

“How’s it going?” Sam asked, head leaned down and angled toward his ear. Dean immediately noticed how close he stood. Or was this as close as they usually stood? Dean felt laser focused on Sam’s proximity. Every little physical thing he did. 

He could smell a little whiskey on him. Made Dean thirsty.

“Thought we were here to have a good time,” Dean gestured toward the blonde Sam had been with, “You’re gonna let yours go?” 

Sam tucked his chin low and his lips quirked up. He hid under his long bangs. He looked shy for a moment before he gathered a comeback, “And where did yours go?” 

Dean made a show of looking around, “No clue. Found a better looking guy, I guess.” 

There was a glint in Sam’s eye as he opened his mouth-then shut it. He looked like he wanted to say something. Sam looked into his beer as he found his words again, “Not possible.” 

Dean’s eyebrows jumped sky high. Was Sam flirting with him? There was that feeling in his stomach again. Fidgety, jittery. Dean tried to squash it down, but Sam stole a glance back in his direction and he looked so damn hopeful. Dean cocked his head and let out a huff of a laugh around a smile. 

“Had a little too much to drink there, Sammy?” Dean gave him a pat on the shoulder. Warm. He lingered longer than he should have. His hand tingled. Didn't used to before when they touched. But they hadn’t really touched since-

“Hm,” Sam grunted a laugh and looked down into his empty glass of whiskey, “Maybe.”

Dean waved down the bartender and refilled their glasses. Another beer and whiskey. “So you let her run off?” Dean continued. 

“I saw you watching me.” 

Dean shrugged. Yeah he was probably obvious, but it was also obvious that Sam saw him and ditched the girl. Chose him over a date. A line of satisfaction ran through him. “Yeah?”

“You know, I don’t mind when you look at me.” 

Dean’s mouth dropped open and he looked at Sam. Really looked at him.

His eyes were half lidded, thumb rubbing along the side of his sweating glass. He was leaned in, angled toward him, focused on him, just like he was with the other woman. Dean had his wish. He was positioned precisely in her spot. It has been a fantasy earlier, but now that he was there, he froze. Where _were_ the boundaries between them? It was like he was trying to find that line in the dark. Probably already crossed it. 

“Kinda like it, actually.”

Sam liked to talk in doubles lately, and Dean couldn’t parse if he was referring to minutes ago when Dean was staring at him across the bar, or the when they made eye heavy eye contact when a witch was on Sam’s cock, or both. 

“Dean,” Sam got his attention again. The previously flirty look in his eye had vanished and a serious one replaced it. A trace of heat glimmered there, too. There were things going on in Sam’s head that Dean wanted to see. Badly.

“I liked it.” Sam’s voice was a low confession. Dean felt a blaze run through him at the words. He wanted to hear that again. He closed his eyes and made an attempt to steady himself. Whatever boundaries they had between them vanished to vapor. 

Good. 

He hated shit between them anyway.

When Dean opened his eyes again, Sam had moved closer. He could feel his breath against his ear. The smell of whiskey grew closer and stronger now, but he knew Sam was a heavyweight, just like him. It smelled sweet, and he wanted a taste. Dean let his eyes slip down to Sam’s lips. They were pink, a little wet. The tip of Sam’s tongue snuck out to wet them. 

Not here though. 

“Lets go before the Jimmy Buffet cover band starts.”

A band was warming up on stage and two thirds of them were wearing tacky Hawaiian shirts. Sam turned his head away to smile. Dean took Sam’s whiskey and threw the rest of it back. After tossing down a couple bills, they headed out. 

 

\---

 

The warm night air forced him back to reality. 

Dean had never been with a guy before. He’d checked-out at dudes before, considered it, but he’d never gone that direction. There was a gay porn or two he watched accidentally, and then again, on purpose. 

Couldn’t be that hard to figure out. He’d just roll with it. 

They headed back to the room. Sam closed the door behind them, and Dean felt a flash of hesitation. Even though Sam was flirting with him at the bar, did he want to go that far? Dean couldn’t be the one to take that first step. He needed to give him an out if he wanted it. Let Sam call the shots. 

As soon as Dean turned around to meet him, Sam was on him. One of his big hands was on his abdomen and tugging him closer, and the other was cupping his jaw and tilting up, steering him into a kiss-

Dean’s brain shut off when Sam’s mouth landed on his. 

Oh, his lips were soft. Little thinner than the plush lips he was used to, but he could work with that. One little sample and Dean needed them like he needed air. He pressed back into him and took charge of the kiss. Kept it at a couple soft sweet smooches before he dipped his tongue out for a deeper taste. 

Sam made a soft noise when the kiss intensified and Dean thought of all the times he fixated on how Sam sighed, or when he hummed in understanding, or grunted as he got out of bed. All those little sounds that reminded him of watching him come undone. How they made the image of Sam’s red-flushed face flash before his eyes, and now those noises were a flavor in his mouth. Deep and whiskey smooth. 

Dean needed to touch him. 

He yanked at Sam’s flannel, rolled up to his elbows in the Arizona heat. As soon as it was off, Dean’s hands dropped between them and slid under his shirt. His fingertips touched the raised skin of scars here and there. Knew where they all came from. Stitched some, bandaged up others. 

Sam’s stomach jumped under his hand and Dean pulled back with a grin. “Ticklish?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Sam murmured and grabbed at the collar of his own shirt to tug it up and off. Dean followed suit and his shirt hit the floor.

He’d seen Sam shirtless more times than he could count, but not in the low light of their dark motel room like this. Not with intent and permission to touch. 

Sam hooked his finger into the waistband of Dean’s jeans and tugged him forward by the hips. The handling sent a zing down to the pit of his gut. His mouth found Dean’s neck and mouthed along it. They always seemed to compliment each other. Dean hesitated. Sam took action and Dean caught up. 

They were pressed together now, skin against skin. Sam was hot to the touch, and Dean wanted more. All those little fantasies of his came bubbling up to the surface. 

He wanted Sam to make noise, to get that hot look again.

He wanted more of those reactions. 

Dean’s hands found Sam’s middle and circled around, fingertips slipping down the back of his pants. A smile reached across Dean’s lips as he took a double palmful of Sam’s ass and squeezed.

Sam jumped and Dean almost laughed, a short chuff coming out as he tried to keep it in. 

“Handsy,” Sam remarked, and Dean could feel the tug of his lips into a smile against his neck. 

Dean used that grip to pull their hips together, guiding him into a dirty grind. He felt that hard ridge of cock in the outline of Sam’s jeans. Just as turned on as him. 

Hadn’t done this with a guy, but Dean was sure he could be a good lay either way. Had to be similar, just take it slow at first. Follow what felt good. Let him know how much he wanted it. 

His hands roamed, from Sam’s ass to his front, up his chest to thumb along his nipples and then further up. Sam was tall and had a lot of torso to him, lots of space for his hands to roam. Dean’s palm lingered over the tattoo, feeling the heavy, reassuring thump of a heartbeat. The tattoo was something he secretly loved sharing with his brother. Every time he saw it, a warm wave of affection rushed through him. Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s temple. Sam’s nosed against his neck, letting him know he was feeling it, too

Dean traced along Sam’s chest, shoulders, and up the back of his neck and into his hair. Sam exhaled heavy against his collar and Dean ran his fingertips along the back of his scalp into his hair and clenched. Sam shuddered, his hips bumping up solid against Dean’s. Liked his hair being pulled, huh? Must be why he kept it so long. He’d tease him about that later. A scrape of teeth along the side of Dean’s neck made him head to list to the side. Wanted more of that.

Sam’s tongue traced a wet line along his neck as he found a good spot to suck an nip. Yeah that’s it, leave a mark. He held Sam’s head there, head tilted back. Sam pulled back after couple seconds and nosed his neck, growling low, “Want you.” 

A jolt went through him. Dean wanted so much more of Sam’s voice. 

“Bed.” Sam pushed Dean back until he landed on the cheap motel mattress. 

Sam crawled over as Dean sprawled out on the bed, reaching for him as soon as he was close enough. Knees dug into the bed on either side of Dean‘s hips as Sam hovered over him, arms bracing as he held himself above. Sam covered his mouth with a kiss and Dean felt a tickle of Sam’s long bangs against his cheek. He reached up to tuck some behind his ear and there was a smile against his lips. Sam’s hand snuck between them to work at Dean’s belt, “Wanna get you outta these.”

“Yeah?” Dean murmured, picking up his hips to help shift his pants off. Sam took the lead here. Usually, he claimed the role, but it felt nice not to be in charge for once. Just go with the flow. Dean toed off his boots and socks until he was just in his boxer briefs. 

Dean watched as Sam’s eyes wandered down his body and there it was again. That dark stare that Dean thought about when he was alone. Dilated pupils filled with hunger as they swept over him. 

He dragged Sam’s hips down to meet his own, hands working at his belt and yanking at his pants, tugging them down. Dean saw a muscle in Sam’s jaw tighten as he wrapped a hand around his cock through his underwear. He thumbed at the wet spot he found and Sam bit his lower lip. Can’t have that. 

“You were louder last time. When I was watching.” Dean teased, tugging down at the elastic of his boxer briefs. He replaced his hand on his bare cock, squeezing around the thickest part. Finger and thumb _could_ touch. Knew it. 

A heavy drop of precome dripped on his stomach. Dean reached for it, swiped at it with his fingers, and impulsively drew it to his mouth. He’d wanted to taste it since he first saw it. He closed his eyes for a second as he focused on the taste of him, opening them when he heard Sam moan. 

“Fuck.” Sam was watching him again, those hazel eyes growing murky when Dean played with the tip of his cock, spreading the precome there. “God, Dean.” He rasped, “Keep talking.” 

Dean had a suspicion that Sam liked when he talked. He couldn’t help a smile. He could do that.

Dean kept his voice deep, “Couldn’t stop thinking about it-” As he spoke, Sam’s mouth started on his chest, right over that matching tattoo they both shared. Dean gave up on his grip as Sam moved lower on his body. “-thinking about you like that.” 

Sam led with open-mouthed kisses down his sternum. This wasn’t the first time someone had followed this path down, but it had never felt this electric before. This was _Sam_ doing this for him. It was gonna be _Sam’s_ mouth on him. His body knew what was next and thrummed with anticipation. He shifted to help Sam draw down his underwear. 

It was hard to keep talking when Sam’s mouth pressed on his naked hip, warm and wet, inches away from his cock, but he managed to keep babbling, “I couldn’t stop looking at you,” It ended in a creak as Dean felt a touch, and Sam looked up at him, fingers holding him upright by the base, lips pressing a kiss to the side of his cock. “Wanted you to the be one making those noises for _me_.”

His voice dissolved into a shaky groan when Sam’s mouth engulfed him. Hot and wet. Dean’s hands sunk into that long hair, gently brushing back his bangs as Sam bobbed. 

Sam smoothly sucked him down, the top of his fist meeting his lips as he jerked what he couldn’t fit. Fuck, where the hell did he learn this? 

Sam pulled up with a slurp, soft tongue and lips playing with the head as he caught his breath. It was a wild thought to wrap his head around. Sam was breathing hard because his mouth was just full of Dean’s cock. Sam looked like he was so into it, eyes pressed tightly closed as he mouthed, and licked, and kissed. 

Dean’s palm smoothed Sam’s hair, trying to express how grateful he was, how good it felt, how badly he wanted more. Sam took him in deep again and Dean groaned, his thumb tracing along Sam’s hollowed cheek, “That's it, baby…” 

Dean chewed on his lower lip as Sam pulled off him with a chuckle, “Baby?” 

Ah damn. Probably sounded too much like a porno. There was a teasing gleam in Sam’s eye, and Dean felt the urge to push his head down to make him shut up. “Thought you wanted me to talk?” 

“I do.” Sam got up for a second, reaching into his backpack and shucking off the rest of his clothes at the same time. Sam licked his lips as he settled back on the bed again, ready to get back to sucking, but this time with a bottle in his hand. 

Dean felt a little uneasy but also excited. It was the adventure of doing something new, but not sure about how it would go. He cleared his throat as Sam settled on his stomach between his knees. “You uh, you know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered distractedly, flipping open the cap and applying lube to a couple fingers. Dean shifted and stayed silent. Should say something. Sam would be pissed later if he didn’t. A second passed by before Sam’s brow ticked down and he glanced up. Ah shit, he caught on. Sam searched Dean’s face, forehead wrinkled with concern, “What about you?” 

Dean’s lower lip stretched to one side and Sam backpedaled, “We can do it the other way if you want.” 

“No, this is fine-”

“It’s all right since you’ve never-”

“I’ve done weirder things.” Dean propped himself up on his elbows. “Can’t call me unadventurous in bed.” 

Sam pursed his lips and Dean could see his doubt there. Sam didn’t want to hurt him or anything, and that was cute, but Dean didn’t want to stop. A little convincing was necessary. He licked his lips, already embarrassed about what he was about to say, “I kinda- I’ve kinda wanted this for a while.”

It was weird how Dean still felt guilty about what happened, even if they had both admitted to liking it. He was unsure about bringing it up in the middle of this, but he had Sam’s attention so he kept going, “I enjoyed watching, but I kind of wanted it to be me.” Dean saw Sam’s eyes grow hazy. “I wanted you to show me how you fuck.”

Sam let out a slow exhale and nodded. “Yeah…” His hand moved down and Dean opened his legs. He willed himself to loosen up as Sam eased a finger in. 

“You wanted that too, didn’t you?” Dean’s adam’s apple bobbed as he let his mouth run, getting used to Sam’s finger. He remembered how Sam seemed to enjoy when Vera had opened herself up for viewing. “You put on a show for me.” 

Sam nodded and slipped in another finger. He mouthed along Dean’s hip again, and Dean let his head fall back. Two fingers weren’t that bad, easy to get used to. He moved his hips with Sam’s hand. “Come on.”

The third finger didn’t feel that great at first, but when Sam crooked them just right Dean’s breathing seized in his throat. He let it out easy, struggling to keep his control. 

Sam immediately caught on and rubbed back and forth over that spot inside him. Dean didn’t consider himself a quiet guy in bed, but he didn’t expect the groan that tore from his lips. _Fuck this was good._

This was entirely different from any of the handful of times he’d tried this with women before. Sam’s hands were practiced, experienced. He knew just what he was looking for to have Dean clawing at the bed sheets. Sam’s persistence, his notorious attention to detail was working against Dean as his hips jerked mindlessly, trying to ride Sam’s hand. 

As soon as Dean made a grab for his own cock, Sam stopped, withdrawing his fingers. Dean opened his eyes to find Sam sitting up and moving over him. As soon as Sam was close enough, Dean’s hands grasped at his face, pulling him in for a kiss. There was an edge of sentiment to it. Dean kept his lips soft and open, trying to let Sam know at least some of what he was feeling. Sam’s lips only lingered for a couple moments before he left to make eye contact. His eyes shone warm and gentle, but they held a thread of desperation. “Ready?”

“Hell yeah.” Dean didn’t want to beg, but goddamn if he had to he would. He brushed his lips against Sam’s, taunting, “Come on. Fuck me.” 

Sam sucked in an unsteady breath and Dean smiled. He was so fucking easy. It was a damned blessing that Dean knew so many of his turn-ons. 

As Sam steadied himself, Dean’s legs loosely draped around his hips. Sam’s cock was significantly wider than his fingers, but Dean felt like he could take it. The inward slide burned, but the broken sound of Sam’s voice as he moaned aloud was worth it all.

There wasn’t as much pain as Dean expected, but it still felt uncomfortable. Full and stretched. Thankfully, Sam held still. Gave him space to adjust. Dean’s fingers ran up the back of Sam’s neck and into his hair, gently combing through. He’d take another moment of tenderness. Another moment of open affection. 

Sam’s body was covering Dean’s from hip to cheek. Warm and solid. The thump of a heartbeat against his chest. Sam‘s. 

They couldn’t be closer. 

Everything felt right. 

Sam’s hips circled slow. Dean wanted more. 

He rocked his hips counterpoint to Sam’s. “Sam…”

Sam’s hips jerked inward and Dean matched him. He needed it. Ached for it. 

Slowly, Sam fucked him. He felt like Sam was everywhere around him. His arms were a cage around Dean’s head, his mouth swallowing up the little moans Dean made with each push in. Sam pulled back to whisper. “I could do this all day if you keep making noises like that.” 

A fuck that went on all day sounded fantastic, but right now he needed it rough. He wanted that wildness he saw before. That desperation. “Sammy. Fuck me.” 

Sam leaned up to look Dean in the eye. He lifted his chin in challenge, and Dean held steady. He could take whatever he could dish out. “You think you can handle it?” 

“Fuck yeah, I can.” 

“Can you?” Sam sounded mocking as he lifted a hand to clamp down the headboard above them and snapped his hips. Dean gave a punched out groan. Sam didn’t let up, setting a brutal pace. 

Again, Sam had paid attention earlier and knew right where to find that sweet spot. It was a challenge all right to keep up with his brain melting from how good it felt. His legs shook on Sam’s hips as his body twisted with the pleasure of it, arching.“ _Ohhh fuck. That’s it Sammy, that's it._ ”

It was hard, but Dean managed to keep his eyes open, head tilted up to watch Sam. His eyes squeezed closed, totally lost in the feeling. Breath shallow and lips parted, Sam whispered gravelly curses and “So good, so good.” 

When Sam finally opened his eyes, he caught Dean watching. He saw something dark and wild there in Sam’s gaze. Something dirty had just passed through his brain, and Dean couldn’t wait to find out what it was. Sam lifted himself up, big hands spreading his thighs open wide. 

“You like to watch? Then watch.” Dirty. Filthy as hell. Sam glanced between them with intent and Dean followed him down. He saw Sam’s hips ramming up into his, his cock disappearing into his body over and over. 

“ _Holy shit._ ” This was so fucking good. Dean could feel himself barreling toward the edge. 

Sam’s hand wrapped around his cock and jerked him quick. With his dick hitting Dean’s prostate and that fist flying over his cock, Sam was playing Dean like a fucking guitar solo. Voice bordering on raw from moaning, Dean reached climax. Sam worked him through, eyes on Dean as he tensed through it. 

“Fuck, fuck-” Sam’s eyes greedily raked over him, and his jaw fell slack. That gloriously hoarse groan spilled from Sam’s mouth and he could feel his hips stutter. Dean had craved that sound for weeks. Replayed it again and again. “ _Ohhhh…_ ”

For just a moment, they held still, catching their breath. 

Sam rolled off of him and as soon as a stretch of mattress grew between them, Dean wanted to close that divide. Which was fucking weird because he wasn’t a cuddler after sex. Everything was different when it came to Sam. 

A creak sounded from the bed as Sam stood and Dean listened to his heavy footsteps head toward the bathroom. Panic subsided when he realized the door was left ajar. Sam wasn’t trying to shut him out or anything, wasn’t immediately regretting it all, wasn’t running. Dean heard water splashing on the sink and Sam came back with a wet washcloth, passing it off to Dean as he settled back into bed. He accepted it with a muttered thanks, wiped himself down and set it to the side. 

Dean’s head turned to the side to see how Sam was doing to find those bright hazel eyes staring right back at him. His head was on the pillow, face flushed but composed, calm. Dean’s eyes drifted down for a moment, thinking about how Sam’s body was still probably warm and welcoming. They were still completely naked, no sheets covering anything. Dean felt exposed the longer they stayed in silence. Growing cold as the sweat cooled. Sam watched him like he was waiting for something, but Dean hesitated. 

Did they fuck everything up? 

A frown formed on Sam’s forehead and that cemented an anxious suspicion in his gut. Ah shit. He needed to make this okay. 

With a half-hearted attempt at a smile and a casual tone Dean tried, “Glad we got that tension out.” 

Make what they did something they could joke about. Dean wanted to make it something they could brush off, even if it ached. If it was gonna be like that, he needed to build up those walls again. Brick by painful brick-

Sam snorted, and that frown vanished into a smile. 

“Yeah, tension. That’s been building, what, half my life?” 

_Oh._

This wasn’t a new thing for him either, huh? Pushed it down just like himself. His worries faded. 

“Get the hell over here.” 

With a chuckle, Sam scooted closer and Dean met him halfway, shifting everything around to throw a blanket over the both of them. With his arm over Sam’s hip and his head on his bicep, Dean felt like he could fall asleep. He gave a glance to Sam. 

The last month had been so tough on him, but now he had Sam wearing an easy smile, hair tousled and skin still damp. Sam’s grin had him beaming right back, brilliant. That’s a sight he hadn’t seen in a bit. It was like waking up on a Saturday. Warm sun peeking through open curtains, relaxed and full of possibility

Dean found himself right about the tension loosening up, but what it left in its place was familiar and simple. 

Were they ever not this close? 

Sam’s lips pressed against his temple. Dean could tell he was getting tired from the sound of his voice, quiet and low. “I didn’t like it when you closed up.” 

Of course Sam would have to ruin a good afterglow with pillow talk, but with the post mind blowing sex endorphins running through his veins, Dean found himself able to open up. 

“Just needed to figure it out.” He admitted. That feeling of guilt was growing less and less strong. “It was kinda fucked up.”

“So?” Sam’s nose nudged in his hair now. Dean could feel him breathing in. “I hated seeing you beat yourself up. I liked it, too.” 

“Well, that’s over now.” Dean said firmly, and that seemed to quiet Sam’s concerns since he didn’t answer. 

Sam managed to mutter something stupid after a couple minutes though, a chuckle peppering his voice. 

“You’re not gonna want another three-way, are you?”

Dean shook his head. “I thought it was ménage à trois?” 

“Shut up.”


End file.
